Chapter 3

The following Tuesday morning, I awakened and thought I was dreaming about being with Molly. I’d always slept on my side, and when fully awake, I realized a soft, woman’s hand was resting on my bare ribs. When the fog of sleep lifted, I knew it had to be Maria. Carefully sliding out, I looked over to find my daughter, sound asleep. I tiptoed into the bathroom to dress, and when I re-entered the bedroom, she was lying motionless.

While I prepared breakfast, my mind raced as to why my daughter had crawled into my bed during the night. I’ve always been a heavy sleeper so I knew why I didn’t wake up. She often had done the same to Molly and me when she was little, but she was definitely not a little girl anymore, and I knew we’d need to discuss it.

She sauntered in and when she sat at the table, I served her. It was rare for me to wake up before her, and I enjoyed preparing the meal, instead of having her do it every day. While we ate, I brought up my concerns. “Maria, I’m not sure why you came into my room last night, but it’s not appropriate at your age. Did something scare you during the night?”

She paused, taking the time to pull her hair back from the front of her face. “Do you remember me telling you I have a hard time sleeping every night?” she asked.

“I do, but what’s this have to do with it?”

“I’m not sure exactly, but I think it’s my fear that you’ll leave me again. Just touching you puts me at ease. I haven’t felt so rested for a long time. I tossed and turned all night, my thoughts drifting to our time apart, so I thought I’d try a physical connection. I fell asleep as soon as my hand rested on your body.”

Holding her hand, I replied, “I’m glad it helped, but no one else would see it that way.”

She grinned and replied, “I’m certainly not telling anyone. Were you thinking of bragging to your co-workers that you slept with your hot daughter?”

Her infectious smile immediately brought comfort to my heart. “No, of course not,” I replied. “Maybe we can discover other ways to help you with your sleep issues. Perhaps having something of mine to smell and touch at night would put your mind at ease. The college has some good counselors on staff; I could set up an appointment for you.”

“No, Dad. It’s not that bad,” she sighed and responded. “You’re overthinking it. I’ll stay in my room from now on. I’m sorry it bothered you so much.”

I chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. “Now, you’re making me feel like the bad guy. I do think you’re right, though; I was probably lucky not to be around during your bratty days.”

We changed the subject, and didn’t bring up the incident again. A few nights later, while we watched a show, I noticed her state of exhaustion. Wrapping my arm around her shoulder, I pulled her close and firmly held one of her hands. “I’m right here, sweetie. Relax, while we finish this movie.”

She nestled her head on my shoulder, and within minutes, the deep and steady rhythm of her sleep-filled breaths filled the room. Rather than waking her after the show had concluded, I chose to stay with her through the news and a late-night program. Eventually, I lightly shook her and said, “It’s time for bed, honey.”

Her eyes fluttered open, and when fully awake, she whispered, “Thanks, Dad. That was a fantastic nap.” With a tender peck on my cheek, she gracefully made her way to her room. I felt a sense of accomplishment in finding a solution to her sleep problem.

On Saturday, we spent the entire day at a museum and aquarium. After our showers, we plopped onto the couch, and Maria’s exhausted state, once more, became evident. She had looked tired during our morning meal, and the day’s activities had worn on her. Our cuddling didn’t have the same effect on her as before, as she squirmed through the show. When it was time to retire, she looked longingly at me, pleading for help. I knew exactly what she needed.

Without directly addressing her desires, I said, “Give me fifteen minutes, honey. I should be asleep by then.”

She smiled wide and replied, “Thanks, Daddy. Pleasant dreams.”

I normally slept wearing only my shorts, but I decided to wear a T-shirt so she wouldn’t come into contact with my bare skin. It seemed ridiculous to set such a silly barrier, but it was the best I could think of.

Within five minutes, I was fast asleep, not waking until eight the next morning. The previous day had tired me out more than I had realized. My ploy to keep her from touching my flesh didn’t work, as her hand had found its way underneath my shirt, resting on my side. I rolled out, and glanced at her content expression. Her smile, while she slept, was as beautiful as when she was awake, and I knew I wouldn’t mention anything about her intrusion this time.

As I cooked the eggs, my thoughts drifted back to the idea of proposing counseling. I could empathize with her hesitation. Her overwhelming sense of guilt, unfairly blaming herself for my expulsion, had become a heavy burden on her shoulders. I knew that revisiting those painful memories would be a challenging process. However, I believed that in time, she would come to terms with it, and understand that I had no intention of ever leaving her again.

Partway through breakfast, she smiled and said, “Thanks for last night, Dad. I feel wonderful today. Let’s make a day of it at a park. We can toss the frisbee like we used to do with Mom, and enjoy the sunny day.”

“Great idea, sweetie.”

We fell into a routine from then on, and I was able to recognize her expression, when she required a restful sleep. I refrained from wearing a nightshirt as I didn’t want her hand searching for an opening.

One morning, after a restive night of sleep, I awoke to find her entire arm draped over my torso, her hand gripping my bare side closest to the mattress. I could feel her breath on my neck and knew she was much closer than normal. Carefully extracting myself, I left without disturbing her.

During the day, neither of us mentioned her closeness during the night. I reasoned that she had probably shifted over while sleeping. I chalked it up to a rare occurrence and decided not to address it with her.

Over the course of the following two weeks, we rekindled our relationship in ways I couldn’t ever have imagined. It was a time of rediscovery, filling in the gaps of those lost years. I made it a point to clear my afternoons at work, dedicating that precious time to spend with my daughter. Together, we embarked on countless adventures – the park became our refuge, a place where laughter filled the air as we played catch or simply sat on a blanket, sharing stories and enjoying the warmth of the sun.

We also set out on drives to explore the hidden gems in neighboring towns, finding charm in quaint cafés, historic landmarks, and scenic vistas. It was as if every outing brought us closer, stitching together the threads of our once-frayed bond.

As the days passed, our bonding strengthened, as we made up for the years we had missed. The void of separation was slowly replaced by shared experiences and heartfelt conversations. I’d never felt so content in my life, and the swiftness of these changes left me in awe of how powerful the journey of reconnection could be.

One Friday afternoon, I returned home to discover an empty house. A note, left on the counter, read, “Dad, I’m going out for a while and will return later.” It seemed like the perfect opportunity to tidy up the kitchen and prepare for the evening meal.

Around half an hour later, a soft tap on the door interrupted the rhythm of my routine. Maria’s usual practice didn’t involve knocking, but her considerate gesture crossed my mind – she likely didn’t want to intrude, especially in case someone else was with me. “It’s open, sweetie. Come on in,” I warmly invited, assuming that she had returned earlier than I’d anticipated.

When I heard another soft knock, I suspected it might be someone else, so I decided to investigate. Opening the door, I was taken aback to find Mom standing there, her eyes misted with emotion. Assuming she had come to persuade Maria to return home, I spoke with a firm but compassionate tone. “Mom, she’s not returning with you. She’s happy here.”

To my surprise, instead of the anger I’d witnessed during our previous encounter, her expression was one of deep sorrow. She hugged me tightly, and sobbed, “I can’t believe what an idiot I’ve been all these years. There’s so much I want to talk to you about, but I haven’t stopped crying for days. Please, sit down with me, and listen to your foolish mother. I could use a tissue and a glass of water, too,” she said, her smile bringing back fond memories.

After being seated, she began, her tone gentle, but resolute, “First, I wrote a note to Maria, expressing my gratitude for motivating me to investigate our sordid past. I asked her to give me some time to be with you alone this afternoon, so I can fully explain everything privately. I didn’t want to bring her into this conversation.”

“Thanks, Mom. I’m sorry that Maria ended up being the one to tell you. I did attempt to contact you multiple times, but the court order made it nearly impossible. I assume you followed the same steps Maria took, going to the courthouse?”

“I couldn’t believe it when I read the testimonial from your father. He never consulted me during the trial, instead, convincing me that you had become violent toward Molly and Maria. As far as those instances of you flirting with me during your youth, I described them to him in confidence. We both took them as completely innocent and even joked about your coming of age. Never did I imagine he would twist them into something so malicious.”

“I did have my doubts about that and didn’t want to believe you felt that way, but I knew the details could’ve only originated from you. Did he hate me so much that he wanted to ruin my life?” I asked.

“It wasn’t about you,” she explained. “He was in love with your wife. After I went to the courthouse, I met with our attorney, and since your father was no longer alive, he confessed all the details. He knew about your father’s affair and helped orchestrate a plan to push you out of the picture.”

“Wow, that fits all the pieces of the puzzle together,” I responded. “I guess the judge didn’t have much of a choice with Dad and his attorney feeding him all that false information.”

“Well, it wasn’t that straightforward,” she continued. “The judge wanted to escalate the case to the District Attorney right away, so your father had to make a significant contribution to his campaign funds to persuade him to follow their plan. Your father couldn’t take the chance that all the facts would be divulged in a court battle.”

“A corrupt judge, who would have thought?” I mused, more as a rhetorical observation.

“According to the attorney, it’s regrettably quite common, and one of the motivations for seeking a judicial position,” Mom remarked, letting out a deep sigh.

“I suspected something was off when Dad’s lawyer allowed me to hug Maria on my final farewell,” I reflected. “If he thought I was the child molester Dad had made me out to be, he wouldn’t have been so receptive. He should pay for his actions.”

“My temper soared when the attorney explained everything, and I threatened to report him to the board,” Mom continued. “He just laughed. Your father and the judge are both dead, leaving him unscathed. He said the only thing he had to do was to say that he was following up on what his client told him. Fuming with frustration, I stormed out of his office, tears streaming down my face the entire way home.”

“The only part that still bothers me is Molly’s involvement. The whole bat incident had to originate from her,” I remarked, hoping my mother might shed some light on this.

“I didn’t stop with the attorney,” she continued, sharing more of her discoveries. “When I confronted Molly, she confessed to everything. She explained that after you caught her, she confided in your father about the incident, and he used it against you. She initially objected and wanted to stick to the original divorce agreement, which allowed you visitation privileges. However, he threatened to expose her and have the judge award Maria to him, effectively pushing both you and her out of Maria’s life. She felt she had no choice but to stay out of it to protect Maria. She feared for her daughter’s safety if she crossed your father.”

“So, it ultimately boils down to Dad destroying our families for the sake of his sexual desires. He must have had as strong a sex drive as Molly,” I voiced my conclusion.

“No, he didn’t. Unfortunately, our sex was non-existent after you married Molly. It was the forbidden nature of it all that drove him,” Mom explained. “I should have seen the signs. I suspected he was having an affair, noticing the telltale signs when he returned from visiting Maria and Molly. I assumed he was using them as an excuse, while meeting his mistress elsewhere. I hesitated to ask Molly about it, fearing it would put her in an uncomfortable position. I blame myself for all of this.” Her guilt was convincingly evident, from the tears that flowed once more.

I embraced her tightly, and she hugged me back. Planting her face on my neck, I felt her hot breath and tears moisten my flesh. Her hair smothered my face, filling my nostrils with the fruity scent of her shampoo. My hands caressed her back, brushing across her bra strap several times, while I consoled her.

“I have to bear part of the blame,” I admitted. “Sex blinded me to the truth, also. I should have been more observant and not allowed for it to go so far. It’s no one’s fault, except for Dad. He’s the only one we should blame.”

“Thank you, Keith,” Mom whispered gratefully. “I already feel so much lighter, after sharing everything. The years you missed with your daughter will always weigh heavily on my heart, but I’m determined to make amends, and become the best mother and grandmother possible.”

“One positive thought that Maria mentioned, is that I didn’t have to be there during her challenging teenage years,” I remarked, attempting to inject some positivity into the conversation.

Mom chuckled warmly and responded, “She was quite a handful, without a doubt. Especially when her body filled out as well as her mother’s. But I managed, and she’s grown into an intelligent and charming young lady.”

“You did a magnificent job, Mom,” I praised. “How about I prepare dinner for us? All this emotional release has worked up my appetite.”

Mom sprang to her feet, headed toward the kitchen, and offered, “Even better, I’ll handle the cooking, while you text Maria to return home. I don’t think I’m as adventurous as Maria to try your culinary creations.”

I responded with a simple grin, confirming her accurate assumption. After sending a message to Maria, I switched on the TV and settled in to wait for our family to reunite.

After an evening of rekindling our connections, Maria finished her shower and came out in her robe to wish Mom and me goodnight. Mom noticed Maria’s attire and inquired, “Isn’t that the robe I gave you as a Christmas gift last year? It looks comfy.”

“It sure is, Grandma,” Maria replied, giving Mom a kiss on the cheek. “I love all the clothes you’ve bought for me.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear my choices weren’t in vain,” Mom remarked with a smile. “I hate to leave, but it’s getting late. I should probably head out.”

“Mom, you’re more than welcome to stay here. I can sleep on the couch,” I suggested.

“That’s not necessary. I’ve rented an apartment not far from here,” Mom replied, leaving me curious about her decision. Before I could inquire further, she turned to Maria and asked, “Would you mind if your father and I spend the day together tomorrow, alone? I’ve missed him so much.”

“No problem, Grandma,” Maria replied with a warm smile. “I planned on exploring the campus and spending some time at the college library, anyway. I’ll have lunch there and return tomorrow evening.” With that, she headed to her room, before either Mom or I could respond.